


But I Still Want To

by faraandmera



Series: Disorderly (This is not a pun everyone is just a mess) [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: (Yorklina specifically), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Relationships, Brain Damage, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Getting Back Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s), mentioned panic attacks, mentioned past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraandmera/pseuds/faraandmera
Summary: Church posed the question so simply that Wash almost missed what he’s actually asked. “Want to go on a date?”For a while, things were good. Genuinely good.Sometimes Wash thinks it could be again. Sometimes Church thinks it would be easy to go back, now that things have changed.
Relationships: Agent Carolina & Leonard L. Church, Agent Washington & AI Program Eta, Leonard L. Church/Agent Washington, The Meta | Agent Maine & Agent Washington
Series: Disorderly (This is not a pun everyone is just a mess) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916335
Comments: 18
Kudos: 29





	1. The Weight that Broke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years ago Wash was discharged from the military for brain damage reasons. Three years ago, he took temporary employment dog-sitting a bear-sized dog named Freckles, for one Michael J. Caboose. Meeting Caboose lead to meeting Caboose’s friends, specifically Tucker. Meeting Tucker lead to becoming friends with him, and then Church in turn.

Three years ago Wash was discharged from the military for brain damage reasons. Three years ago, he took temporary employment dog-sitting a bear-sized dog named Freckles, for one Michael J. Caboose. Meeting Caboose lead to meeting Caboose’s friends, specifically Tucker. Meeting Tucker lead to becoming friends with him, and then Church in turn.

So here’s how it starts: Wash is convinced by Caboose’s persistence to join an outing of Caboose’s friends, a month after they meet. During which Church is absent. Tucker, halfway through the night, gets a call from his babysitter that they’ve had a family emergency, and need to leave. Tucker, already having been drinking for the past two hours, had turned to his supposed-to-be ride home, Grif, who was obviously not _ready_ to leave, but going to anyway. And Wash, new to the group, but also specifically _not_ having been drinking, offered to drive Tucker instead. It didn't take long after this incident to become friends.

Which leads to how it actually starts. Tucker was the one to invite Wash to the next outing, and this time Church actually showed up. Despite only having met most of the people there twice, Wash found it easy enough to fall in with the group. So he ended up drinking without considering that he _drove himself_ there. Which is why, when he stood up and grabs his keys, he paused. Stopped, stared at his keys, and realized: _oh that’s illegal and also dangerous._

Church was the one to snatch the keys out of Wash’s hand, and ask, “where’s your car?” The one to help Wash to said car when he stumbled forward, and drive him back. He complained the whole time, but it was halfhearted at best and outright ridiculous at worst. The one who helped Wash up to his second-floor apartment and didn't even flinch when Wash told him to just knock on the door, and it was opened by the building of a person that Maine is.

Who watched Maine ask Wash, in sign language, “what happened to you?” And who responded for him when Wash’s brain was too slow to process it. (“Is he deaf or just mute?” Church asked, quietly. “Mute,” Wash told him, slurred.)

When Church lead Wash to the couch- despite the fact he could surely have handed Wash over to Maine- Wash asked how he knew ASL. And Church’s response was simple. “Well I have to understand Junior somehow.” Junior being Tuckers son. Who Church had included earlier in the night, when he said he didn’t care for children. (“Including your gremlin,” Church said, earning a empty can tossed at him by Tucker.)

Something about that clicked in Wash’s head, and it stuck there long after it should have.

Weeks after that, it continued. Wash finally started thinking about how he needed a job that could actually cover his half of the rent- despite Maine saying it was fine- and only days later Church suggested security work at a tech company. It wasn't a bad suggestion, and one he pursued. Church claimed he just heard about it in passing, when Wash tried to thank him for the suggestion.

It wasn't until the next time everyone met, when Tucker made a comment about Church _not being cut out for security work,_ and Church saying, “when did I ever say I was,” that something else clicked.

“You were the one who asked me if I knew about any.”

“I did no such thing. Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Hiding something?”

“No!”

The third instance came much later. See Wash is pretty good at managing the whole _brain damage_ thing. It’s pretty minor. Occasional- usually temporary- memory loss. Forgetting things he’s told people, or forgetting things like his schedule or even where he works. But he can _handle it._ Sets himself tons of reminders, writes down anything really important, and generally he’s able to deal with it without much problem. At the very least, he can usually logic his way through figuring out what’s missing.

(Sure there’s instances where it’s not so simple, but he can manage. One time he forgot he had work- or his current job at all- until an hour after he was supposed to leave, when Maine asked him why he hadn’t left. But that was an outlier. It's also why of the two people who had offered him a place to stay- Connie and Maine- he’d gone with the later. He was less likely to be confused at seeing Maine, who he’d met during his military service, than Connie.

That and that he didn’t feel like living with a couple, but that was a less important point.)

The point being: he could manage, most of the time. But one day he looked up from his phone, where he’d been setting reminders that he’d traded shifts with South, when he realized he…didn't know where he was. Was he leaving home? Going home? He was walking down a sidewalk, but he usually drove. He wasn't near work, and didn't _think_ he recognized where he was.

Usually he could logic his way through a situation. Look for something that gave him information about his situation, or at least call someone before panic set in.

Usually. In this instance, all he could think was, “ _I don’t know where I am.”_ The words looped in his mind, twisting in his chest until he _couldn't breathe._ He struggled to do anything _useful_ with his phone, fumbled through contacts and called the first person who’s contact he could manage to open. He’d sunk to the ground, by the time it started ringing.

“Hello?” Church’s voice was distant, only half because Wash was still in the process of lifting his phone.

“I don’t know where I am.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t know where I am,” Wash repeated, as clearly as he could.

“Your phone has GPS right?”

“Oh- yes- probably?”

“Do you think you can send me your location?”

“May-maybe?”

Wash fumbled through figuring out how to do that, Church stayed on the call through that process, helping him. He sat on the ground, trying to figure out _how he got there,_ even when Church arrived where he was.

Later he’d remember he was making a simple convenience store run for Connie, while visiting her, when she texted him worriedly asking where he went.

Still, it’s the third click. The thing that made him pay more attention to Church, as a person. His personality, the way he joked with the others and even with Wash. The amount he cared, and how much he seemed not to want to admit that.

And seven months after they met Wash thought, _oh no._ When what exactly was clicking in his head actually meant hit him.

He said exactly nothing about this.

Wash started meeting everyone else fourteen months after he met Church. The beginning of this was when Wash finally- for the first time- explained what happened that day, when he forgot where he was. _Why_ it happened.

“You know you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“I- yeah but I want to.”

Church humed in response to this, then nodded. “Okay. But it’s fine, I know how scary it can be.”

“How scary it can be?”

“Suddenly being somewhere, and not knowing where or why.”

“You’ve gone through that?”

“Uh- yeah.” Church looked away, shrugging. “A lot actually.”

Wash got a crash-course from Church on what DID is, and did his own research later. He didn't start officially meeting anyone until weeks later. He was both thankful that Church- and the others- must have trusted him enough to tell him, and worried about the others disliking him.

Four months later he met Epsilon. Epsilon was the first of them to actively admit they liked Wash, and who became one of the first people that came to mind when Wash needed to talk to someone. They got along well. Better than he got along with Church, even, despite how Epsilon was the most similar of any of them to Church.

“You know,” Epsilon told him one day, “we jokingly call Church, Alpha. Because it fits with the names we all ended up with?”

“How’s he feel about that?”

“He started it, but I don’t think he expected it to stick.”

Wash liked Epsilon, just as much as he liked Church. Wash liked the others, too, for the most part.

When it comes to how they felt about him: Sigma generally didn't seem to like or dislike him, so they didn't interact much. Gamma and Omega were indifferent, as far as he knew. Delta was nice to him, and they had a few genuine conversations. The kids- that is: Theta, Eta, and Iota- seemed to think he’s cool, which was more than most people.

And Church…he wouldn’t have been able to tell you, at the time. Not until they’d known each other for two years. Church posed the question so simply that Wash almost missed what he’d actually asked. “Want to go on a date?”

For a while, things were good. Genuinely good.

And then Epsilon trusted him with information that was _clearly_ too personal to have done on his own. This much was increasingly obvious when he brought it up to Delta, who was, for the first time Wash had ever seen, horrified to learn Epsilon did that without discussing it with the others first. They later decided they trusted Wash enough to know, but was clear to him without hearing any of those discussions that they didn’t want him to yet- or at all, maybe.

It didn't _ruin_ anything, but it was the first step in many of the problems forming. Epsilon had always been sensitive, quick to any emotion. Wash didn't have an issue with that. But as soon as Epsilon realized Wash could listen to his worries, his fears, his _memories,_ he started to do so more and more often. Whenever he was stressed, and fronting, he went to Wash. And Wash let him, listened to him, because he cared about him- about all of them, even those he didn't really get along with.

But he could only do so much. As much as Wash didn't want to admit it, he wasn't really prepared to handle as much as Epsilon handed him to deal with. And these things piled on top of his own problems, until he felt like he was ripping at the seams.

But he didn't know what to do.

Didn't ever figure it out, really. Not while they were together, at least. (Later he’d realize what he should have done. The boundaries he should have set for his _own_ mental health. But that wouldn't be until they’d broken up.)

A few months ago, Church broke up with Wash. Had pushed him out of the door. Told him, “I’m sorry,” for all of them. Had said, “I can’t apologize for Epsilon, specifically, but I’m sorry.” Said, “this isn’t healthy, and I can’t stop it as long as you keep letting it happen.”

Wash had wanted to argue. To say he wanted to help. To say he just didn’t want to hurt them. To say _anything._ But part of him, even then, knew Church was right. Knew that he wasn’t helping, that way.

They hadn’t spoken again until Carolina asked Wash to help her move in with her brother, and her brother turned out to be _Church._

Carolina spends three days after the discussion she has with Church- about how she's only just realized she's actually _away from their father_ \- in a sort of daze. There’s not much they can do for her other than offer comfort, though. To tell her it's okay to feel off-balance as her new lifestyle sets in. On the fourth day, Carolina comes back from work and genuinely smiles for the first time in as long.

She then promptly proceeds to get sick and end up bed-ridden.

“Are you gonna be okay, C?”

“Mhm.” Carolina doesn’t look up from where she lies in bed.

“Want me to get you medicine?”

“Nah.”

“Okay…”

York gets the news that Carolina is going to be out sick, but also knows that if he calls out when he isn’t sick just to check on her, she’ll probably kill him with her bare hands. So instead he picks up a bunch of sick-people-things on the way to work. (Soup, medicine, hot/cold packs.) Then corners the group of people who get off when he gets there, that day. (Today, due to their wildly inconsistent schedules, it’s South, Connie, and Wash.)

“I need one of you to take this-” York holds up the bag- “to Carolina for me.”

“Yeah no thanks,” South says, simply, pushing past him. Connie shrugs, and then looks towards Wash, who _also_ shrugs in return.

“I already know where it is, so I don’t mind.”

“Well there you go,” Connie says, simply. “Need a ride?”

“No I drove myself today.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks,” York says, as he hands the bag over. Wash shrugs again.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“If you say so.” Then: “off you go.”

“Don’t push it.”

Of all the things Church is prepared for, while taking care of his sick sister- for the first time in 8 years- someone knocking on the door isn’t one. Which maybe it _should_ be, but he was more focused on the _sick person_ part and less on her friends knowing and wanting to check on her.

He’s much, much less prepared for _Wash_ specifically.

The greetings of, “what are you here for,” and “what do you want,” are both more appropriate than the one he gives. “What the fuck are you here for?”

“Not you, thankfully.” Wash shifts, and holds up a bag, though Church can’t see what’s actually in it. “Delivery for the sick person.”

“Oh yeah, you’re friends.”

“Yeah. But technically this is from York, though, so that’s fair.”

“Right.” Church steps aside, to allow Wash into the apartment. Wash looks surprised for a moment, before stepping past him. “I think she’s still asleep, right now.”

“I can leave this here.”

“Yeah- uh-”

“What?”

“Can I talk to you, actually?” Church says the words before he actually considers them. He’s been meaning to speak to Wash for a while. Longer than Carolina has been here, definitely. But he kept avoiding it, because he’d feel weird suddenly contacting Wash after weeks- then months- of not speaking to him. And he couldn’t make anyone else do it, because it’s really only something he _can_ say.

“I guess.”

And then neither of them speak for a solid forty seconds. Church does _not_ count them. Maybe he counts them. Okay: he counts them.

“What is it?” Wash asks, finally. His tone has quickly gone from blunt to concerned.

“I’m sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry,” Church repeats, with more difficulty. Apologizing has never been his strong suit. A problem he knows he has, one he’s worked on, but one that remains despite his effort.

“What for?”

“Epsilon.”

“Didn’t you- didn’t you say you couldn’t apologize _for_ him because he wasn’t willing to admit something was wrong?”

He had. Church nods. The situation then had been _different_ , because Epsilon would have argued that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That he was hurting- and he was- and that he wasn’t hurting anyone else. But he had put all the weight of his emotions- his _memories_ , even without saying what they were, outside of one incident- on Wash. And Wash let that happen because he _wanted to help._ Because he cared about them.

Church- old-Church, Alpha- had been the one to finally push Wash out of their life. To say that it was _enough_ , and force them to get a healthier coping mechanism. (Wasn’t that what _therapy_ was for, he’d argued.) Had said that he couldn’t apologize _for_ Epsilon, because it wouldn’t be genuine. Because Epsilon wouldn't agree he had anything to apologize for. He could apologize in a more general sense- and _had-_ but couldn’t have apologized for Epsilon specifically.

Could do that now, because he was the only one who could. Had Epsilon’s memories, now. It wasn’t an equal combination, and he identified more with the pieces of him that were, “Alpha,” than, “Epsilon,” hence why he kept the name Church. But he was still able to _feel_ the piece of him that finally had the perspective Epsilon lacked. That could apologize for it.

“I can now.”

“You can now?” Wash echos.

“Well- we integrated.”

“Oh.” Wash pauses, nodding. “Okay.”

“So- you know…”

“Yeah. I accept your apology.”

“That easily?”

“I was never mad at you. Any of you.”

“That doesn’t mean it was okay.”

“No,” Wash agrees. He hadn’t the last time they spoke. Had denied that it was affecting him, until Church shoved him out of the apartment and he'd gone silent. “But you apologized, more than once now, and…if you’re able to, that means you’ve- that you’ve changed. No longer would do that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So I accept your apology.”

“Okay.”

Here’s a fun fact: Church having both old-Church and Epsilon’s memories didn’t really change how he felt, when it comes to Wash. Only increased it, if anything.

Which sucks, honestly. Now that Wash is apparently back in his life- though secondhand- it’s a lot more difficult to deal with. He could handle it, when they never saw each other and he didn’t have to consider how easy it would be, in theory, to go back.

Because the only reason he broke up with Wash was because they needed to find a better coping mechanism for Epsilon, specifically. Because Epsilon couldn’t see what the problem _was_ as long as Wash didn’t tell him he was doing something wrong. (In the end, Epsilon just couldn’t handle the weight of it, himself. But integrating was healthier than trauma dumping to Wash when the other wasn’t prepared for that. When they had a therapist for a reason.) With that no longer being an issue, it _feels_ like it would be so easy to go back.

Not that it would ever be exactly _the same._ But maybe that would be a good thing.

“We could at least be friends again,” is Eta’s argument on the subject. It’s surprising for Eta- nervous, cautious, Eta- to be the first to want to jump into a situation. But, then, Eta has very few people he likes, so maybe Church shouldn’t be that surprised. After the discussion has it’s rounds through their system, the general consensus is agreement with Eta.

“So I think we should start inviting Wash to things again,” Church tell Tucker, who stares at him. Tuckers expression radiates the question, _are you_ ** _ **sure**_** _about that?_ “Seriously.”

“Alright.” Tucker shrugs. The next time everyone gets together, and invitation is given to Wash. Church isn’t surprised when he doesn’t show up.

Things that are true: the children are not allowed to drink, no matter how old the body is. Iota is not supposed to be there, when Church’s friends are hanging out. Iota can not drive, despite being old enough to get a learners permit by now. None of the kids are supposed to use ride-share services, because people cannot be trusted, and they have plenty of contacts in case they need a ride.

Things that are also true: Church’s focus wanes shortly after everyone- in this case _everyone_ only means Tucker and Caboose- meet up. He can feel Iota nearby, and buries his face in his hands because focusing on that and the world around him is too much at once. Church wakes up the next day on his couch.

Things that Church learns are true, after the fact: Iota started fronting. They did not drink _or_ drive, so he at least didn’t have to worry about that. When Tucker asked if they needed someone else called, Iota had told him they had a specific contact list for just such a situation. Of all the people on that list, Iota asked _Wash._

And Wash had picked them up.

“I need to a ride home,” Iota had texted Wash.

“And you're asking me?”

“Am I not supposed to?” Then, “I can ask someone else.”

“It’s fine. You know how to share your location?”

“Yep!”

Church stares at the messages for what must be an unreasonable amount of time. Stares and thinks about how _easily_ Wash had agreed. They had other people they could ask, he didn’t _have to_ do that.

 _Damn it,_ Church thinks. He’s still caught up on this. On _him._

Wash isn’t having any easier a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer (copied from the previous entry): I don't have DID, so i tried to avoid making any part of the story *About* it. it affects the story/characters but it isn't like what the story is about. it's just important so it can't be avoided. (Also Church having DID is the most canon-accurate way for the fragments to exist in a modern au, so.)  
> However if I got anything really wrong, please correct me so I can do better.  
> also important thing: i'm never going to talk specifics about the trauma in this series. i don't think it's necessary.


	2. Reconstructing with Gold Lines.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after they broke up he had just wanted to _talk to him._ To say he understood, now. To say he would say something, now. That he would set the boundaries he hadn’t before, so it would be fine.  
> To say, “I love you,” at least.  
> Over time he expected that to change to, “I loved you.” For it to become, “I want to be your friend, again.”  
> For something to change.  
> Months after they broke up, after they met again, because of Carolina, he had wanted to say a lot of things he hadn’t.  
> Wanted to say, “I still love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took for fucking ever to actually make myself write and its like double the length of chapter 1 because im an idiot!  
> i listened to 1216 by Echos on loop bc it's the mood that kickstarted this series bc of these two
> 
> fair warning one of them has an anxiety attack in this chapter, however i don't describe it in detail. just make mentions of difficulty breathing, and being tired after the fact. I know i had the "mentioned panic attacks" tag on the story as a whole but figured i'd add another one here just in case

Routines are helpful, for many reasons. As tiring as they can become, you generally remember them subconsciously. Go through the motions without thinking.

It makes remembering things outside of it all the more difficult, though.

Wash generally wakes at 7:03am- his alarm is perpetually set to 7:10- and finds his notes. They exist _just in case_ so he can check if anything significant happened yesterday, or is supposed to happen today. Usually it’s all familiar, but it’s better than taking the chance. Usually he writes his work-schedule for the day down, though it’s also generally the same.

Once assured he knows what’s going on, Wash makes coffee. He doesn’t really _like_ coffee, so much as he’s used to it. Reaches “normal person” levels of energy because of it. About ten minutes before he usually leaves, Maine will wake up. This routine has set over time, and been a big help for easing his worry about repeating incidents of forgetting about his job.

He leaves for work at approximately 7:45, most days. Sometimes he drives himself, sometimes Maine drops him off.

Generally the people who work at the same times as him are Carolina, South, Connie, North, and York. Some of them start work before him, and leave while he’s still there. Some are the opposite. He’ll have lunch because he needs to, to focus. Today it’s with North and South. When one of them invite him, it’s a tossup if the other will know he’s joining them, or if they’ve decided not to say anything to mess with each other (or him.) North is more likely _not_ to tell South, and Wash isn’t sure if that’s accidental, or if he just thinks it’s funny to annoy his sister.

After work, Wash will more often than not beat Maine home. Sometimes Maine will ask him to do shopping, on his way, since Maine’s schedule typically has him getting back late into the evening.

He takes short notes about anything significant, or if there isn’t anything, just facts he’s learned that day about someone he knows, and his schedule for the following day.

He’s forgotten 20 weeks in a row to change his emergency contacts. Holding 1 is a 911 call. Holding 2- his number one emergency contact- is Church. 3 is Maine. He knows he should change the second, has known that for months, but it’s outside of his routine. Something easy to forget.

And maybe that’s an excuse. If something happened, it’d be an excuse. A reason he was the first person called.

Iota had told him, when he picked them up a week ago, that they- the collective they- still had him in their list of contacts for when they need a ride. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s something easy to forget about. Something they might just not have thought to change.

It doesn’t mean anything, but he thinks about his emergency contacts and the reasons he hasn’t changed his. The _real_ reason he hasn’t.

Eta keeps a list of things that he likes. Things that make him happy. He had thought- when he was twelve- that it was childish. But Sigma had promised he’d do it too, if Eta did, and Sigma is the oldest, so it can’t be _that_ childish. It’s supposed to help. To remind him that things he likes, that make him happy, exist. A reminder because he forgets. Iota said it was a good idea, they made their own. Iota’s is a lot longer list than Eta’s.

Eta likes spicy foods. This seems to surprise people, a lot. They assume he’d like sweet things. (He does, maybe, just not as much.) It’s sad because the body does _not_ like spicy foods. Church and Delta still keep a few spicy snacks in the apartment, for him.

Eta likes Iota, obviously. They’re close half because they’re siblings and half because they, “balance each other out,” as Sigma says. Because Eta’s list is short, and Iota’s isn’t. Because Eta’s list of things that worry him is long, and Iota’s is as short as someone their age’s normally would be. Because Eta likes spicy things and Iota likes sweet things.

Eta likes the others, but not as much. Delta usually takes care of them, though, so he’s higher on that list. Theta is, too, because they’re also close. They used to be closer, when they were the same age. But Theta is still twelve, and Eta is fifteen, now, and they feel more distance. Iota says it’s okay, that Theta is basically their little brother.

When Eta pointed out that they weren’t siblings, Iota said someone can be family when they aren’t actually. Eta doesn’t really _understand_ , but he doesn’t think they’re wrong.

Eta doesn’t _dislike_ any of Church’s friends. Not really. He just doesn’t actively _like_ most of them. Caboose is nice, and probably the one he likes the most, but he doesn’t interact with any of them enough to put them on the list. Church would say it’s probably for the best. Not because of them, but because Eta isn’t _good_ with people. They…worry him.

Eta doesn’t share the list with anyone. If he did, he might have to remove something. Have to take “Church’s _now-ex_ boyfriend” off of the list, because they weren’t supposed to talk to him anymore. Because of something Epsilon did. He was nice, and talked to Eta, and said it was _okay_ for Eta to be worried. Said it was okay if he wasn’t comfortable with him. Which is part of why Eta _was._ Is still, even though they aren’t supposed to talk to him.

Or maybe they were now? The others had accepted his suggestion to be friends with him again, but it still only a few of them who were supposed to. Iota got to talk to him because they had to, but that didn’t count.

Eta thinks, maybe, they’ll end up adding Carolina to the list. Eta wasn’t around, when Church and the others still lived with Church's sister, before, but now that she’s around again, Eta hopes he’ll like her. That they can be friends. It’d make things easier, be nicer.

And she’s friends with him too, so maybe she’d help Eta talk to him.

The first time Carolina sees the other room in the apartment is two weeks after moving in. She’s passing it, on her way from her room to the door out of the apartment, and the door is open for once. It is, to put it simply, _a mess._ At once, she understands why they had to clear her now-room out before she could move in. They must have stuffed all of their things- excluding what’s obviously been moved to the living room- into their room.

“If you’re going to start judging me, I will remind you that I can kick you out,” Church says, startling Carolina out of her observations.

“I wasn’t. And you wont.” Church rolls his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. Because she’s right. “You know I’m not using all of the space in my room.”

“I know. But most of isn’t mine.” He shrugs. “And I don’t want to invade your room if we need something from there.”

“Good point.”

Church steps past her, into the room. He pushes a box aside with a sigh, then pauses. “Is this even ours?”

“What?”

Church holds up a notebook, frowning. It’s generally plain, edges of the cover fraying. He turns it so that he can open it, and look inside. “Oh.”

“Is it?”

“Oh- uh- no.” He closes it, quickly. “Actually, you’re heading to work, right?”

“Right- shit I’m gonna be late.”

“Yeah, okay, take this with you.” He tosses the notebook with only that as warning. Carolina catches it, if just barely, and frowns at him.

“Why?”

“Because it belongs to one of your coworkers?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Carolina takes the notebook with her. When she hands it over to Wash, he startles, then clutches it tightly. He rushes off with it when York arrives, and starts conversation with Carolina. It’s not really a big thing, not something to think too heavily about, but it sticks in her mind.

“Hey,” she starts, later that day, “what was that notebook?”

“You’re asking _me?”_ Church turns to face her from the kitchen. Carolina just nods, and he sighs. “You know about the memory problems?”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes- uh- he’d wake up here, so it was a just-in-case for that.” Carolina knows just enough about Wash’s routine to understand what he’s talking about, though she had assumed he kept those notes on his phone.

She never asked, but she’s wondered about _them_ , since Church told her. Wondered if it was serious, and how it ended. She knows they’re not on _bad_ terms, but they don’t talk. They haven’t interacted, as far as she knows, since she moved in. She definitely hadn’t thought they were that close. Did Wash know everything, too? Did he know before she had?

“You good there, sis?”

“Oh- yeah. You two were…close, huh?”

“Oh my god, please tell me you don’t really want to have this conversation.” Church breathes a heavy, exaggerated, sigh. “If you start asking me about this I’ll start asking you about your _friend_ , York.”

“We- he _is_ my friend.”

“Boy-”

“Church,” she stresses his name, warning. He only laughs at her.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

“But…were you?”

“Seriously?”

“It’s just- I didn’t know.” She’s not sure if she means _about them,_ or _about him._ Maybe both.

“Yeah- well- you do now?”

“Yeah…”

Church sighs, something smaller. Less exaggerated. “We were.”

“Huh?”

“Close.”

“Oh,” Carolina says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

Routines are helpful, for many reasons. As tiring as they can become, you generally remember them subconsciously. Go through the motions without thinking.

It makes remembering things outside of it all the more difficult, though.

Wash has forgotten to change his emergency contacts for 21 weeks. He’s in a grocery store, he knows that. He knows he was buying _something._ But he’d turned into a new aisle and it was like his brain rebooted without that information. Looks down at the cart of things, and breathes a sigh. He searches through his phone, for any notes or texts from Maine about _what_ he was getting. He finds that, hurries his way through getting things, and finds a line to get in. All the while a growing anxiety rests in his chest. _This is fine,_ he tells himself. He knows what he’s doing, he knows where he is, there isn’t anything wrong.

It’s fine.

He makes it all the way to his car, before he starts shaking. Mutters curses at himself, because he _should be fine,_ and haphazardly puts things into the car. Nothing breakable. And nothing that needs to be refrigerated, so he doesn’t have to rush.

He can’t breathe.

Wash sits in his car, leaves it off, and puts his head against the steering wheel. He can’t breathe. He counts seconds, breathes in, counts more seconds, breathes out. Pauses, repeats. He knows what’s going on, he knows what to do, he knows-

Grabbing his phone happens without thinking, he moves it so he can see it, without lifting his head. Stares down at it, count seconds, unlocks it, counts more seconds. Pulls up the dialer, and holds 2- because 1 is 911 and he doesn’t need the hospital, and 2 is in the center of the top row, and an even number, and that feels better anyway-

And he doesn’t consider who that is.

“Hello, it is I.”

“Wh-why did you- why did you answer like that?”

“Spicing it up a bi- are you okay?”

“Uh…” He counts to ten, pauses, breathes out. “Yes?”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m a single mother. What’s wrong?”

“You- um- you do have children kind of?”

“They aren’t _my_ children. No- wait- that makes it sound like I kidnapped them.”

“Not physically possible?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but his breathing hitches. He closes his eyes, counts to five.

“Hey.”

“Mhm.”

“Where are you?”

“In m’ car.”

“Don’t drive.”

“I have groceries.”

“I don’t care.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

“Callin’ you-”

“Stop that.” A pause. “Where are you?”

“My car.”

“More specific.”

“Parking lot.”

“One more?”

“In front of the store.”

“Okay actually one more.”

“Uh-” Wash pauses, lifts his head and opens his eyes to read off the stores name.

“The one near the park?”

“I think so? Uh- no- yes.”

“Okay.” Shuffling. “I’m going to pick you up.”

“My car-”

“Has locks. Listen I’ll go back for your car if you really want.”

“Okay.”

Three years ago Church watched a man get drunk, forgetting he had driven himself there, and have that dawning realization as everyone was getting ready to leave. Had thought _what a fucking idiot,_ snatched the keys from him, and driven him home.

Months later, he was surprised when he was the one Wash called, in the midst of panic. He knew it wasn’t purposeful, but that didn’t make it less odd.

Months after that, Church found himself walking out of a store, the sound of one of his favourite songs playing somewhat distantly. He breathed a sigh, looked down at himself, but he was dressed in his _own_ clothes, so that gave him little idea of who had gotten him here. Couldn’t hear them, either. He looked around, trying to get an idea for where he was, and found his keys in his pocket. Quickly realized that his vehicle was _nowhere nearby_ , and that he…didn’t know where he was.

A few observations told him that he was leaving a convenience store, though not one he was familiar with. The things in the bag he was holding were all things one of the others was likely to grab for themselves, so that told him nothing.

And then he’d gotten a text from Wash, completely unrelated to the situation, and decided _screw it, I already know he’ll respond._ He’d told Wash he’d lost track of where he was, and was without his car. Asked for help, and the other had easily agreed. He never asked about what had happened, once assured Church was fine. He must have figured it out, later, but never brought it up.

That was part of why it had been so easy. Wash didn’t really _question_ him, on things. He brought things up- would ask things, would point out inconsistencies- but he left things alone if he didn’t need to know. It wasn’t _questioning,_ it was asking.

If Church didn’t want to talk about them, and it wasn’t hurting anything, Wash let it go. Alpha had been the first one that wanted to tell Wash about their situation, and had been backed up easily by Epsilon and Theta. (But the latter was usually on the side of believing in people, despite the rest of them not being able to.)

It was fifteen months after they met, that he realized what was happening. It was eighteen months after they met that Epsilon had gone and said, “I like him,” and then told Wash the same thing. Weirdly, most of the others didn’t have anything specifically negative to say.

Something snapped into place.

Gamma doesn’t trust people, because people lie. But he doesn’t really care _what_ they do or who they tell. He’ll do what he has to, in regards to protecting them, and leave the decisions to the others. Leave relationships to them. He has exactly one conversation with Wash, and says, “I don’t hate him.” It’s good enough.

Omega doesn’t like people. He _respects_ people, sometimes, but he doesn’t _like them._ He respects Tex, because she’s strong, and doesn’t let other people tell her what to do. He respected Beta, for the same reasons, when she was around. He respects Theta for maintaining belief, despite all the reasons he shouldn’t. Respects Epsilon and Eta for existing, like they are, holding onto things the others don’t. Respects Delta and Sigma for keeping the others safe, when he isn’t suited for it. Respects _some_ of Church’s friends, for varying reasons. Respects Doc, specifically, now that he’s finally started standing up for himself.

Omega doesn’t like people, because people aren’t _good._ They’re dangerous, and they hurt each other, and they hurt _them,_ and he has to _protect them._ He respects some people, and admits nineteen months after meeting him, that he respects Wash.

The kids like him, because he’s nice to them. Treats them like kids without hesitation, but doesn’t speak down to them. Eta is especially attached, which Church thought was odd, because Eta doesn’t like many people. Only ever talked to Caboose, of the people they knew outside their system, before.

Delta doesn’t think he’s a problem, so he doesn’t dislike him. Has a few conversations that are _positive,_ which is good enough.

Sigma hadn’t argued against their growing closeness, which was basically the same as saying he didn’t hate him. Sigma blatantly says he _doesn’t_ like Wash, but that’s not the same as _disliking_ someone. Sigma makes a very distinct line between the two.

Epsilon _loves_ him. Loved him. Church thinks, maybe, it’s lucky “Alpha” did too. Makes things easier for him, without having to reconcile two different feelings.

Or maybe it’s unlucky. No one’s feelings have really changed, months after they stopped talking. Weeks after they started talking again, only because of someone else. He wishes- hopes- they could at least be friends again. That would be okay. Enough.

Even if he would want something else.

Back when they broke up, Wash had wanted to argue. To say he wanted to help. To say he just didn’t want to hurt them. To say _anything_. But part of him, even then, knew Church was right. Knew that he wasn’t helping, that way.

Two days after they broke up he had wanted to apologize. To go back and say he was sorry even though they weren’t mad at him. Even though Church had apologized to him.

Two weeks after they broke up he had just wanted to _talk to him._ To say he understood, now. To say he would say something, now. That he would set the boundaries he hadn’t before, so it would be fine.

To say, “I love you,” at least.

Over time he expected that to change to, “I loved you.” For it to become, “I want to be your friend, again.”

For something to change.

Months after they broke up, after they met again, because of Carolina, he had wanted to say a lot of things he hadn’t.

Wanted to say, “I still love you.”

Church’s apartment it closer than Wash’s. And considering the latter’s increasing anxiety when he starts driving, he decides that’s the better option. By the time they get there, his breathing has evened, and the shaking has become minimal, but his eyes are drooping, exhausted.

“Oh, we left my groceries.”

“Anything going to go bad?” Church pulls him to his feet, out of the car.

“Don’ think so.” He shakes his head. “No.”

The trip into the building is sluggish, but the elevator does _most_ of the work from there. The apartment isn’t far down the hall. On instinct- familiarity- Wash makes his way to the couch immediately. The apartment is empty, like it was when he left. Carolina is out, “with friends.”

“Want…water?”

“Ice?’

“Ice water? Or do you want me to just hand you ice?”

“Prefer you don’t make me hold it,” he mumbles.

“Okay I’ll give you…a cup of ice.”

“’Kay.” He sighs. “I gotta…get my car later.”

“You’ve got to rest.”

“Okay _mom.”_

“Gross don’t call me that. If anyone’s a mom it’s Delta.”

“Assigned mom friend at…”

“At?”

“Split?”

“Correct.”

“I know things.” He sighs, which turns into a yawn. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t even given you your ice yet.” Church puts a few cubes of ice into a cup, before making his way into the living room.

“Not that.”

“It’s fine.” Church hands over the cup. Wash takes it, and holds it to his face. “Okay if you wanted the ice for that I would have put it in a bag.”

“I’m gonna eat the ice.” A pause. “In a second.”

“Weirdo.”

“Harsh.” Wash rolls his eyes.

“You’re right, let me be nicer: asshole.”

“Better.”

“Loser.”

“You know me so well.”

“You want to stay here?”

“On the couch?”

“In the apartment, moron.”

“I didn’t think you were kicking me out immediately.”

“ _Tonight_ , Jesus.”

“Oh.” A pause. “You okay with that?”

“Would I ask if I wasn’t?”

“The others?”

“Will be fine.”

“Okay.” He drags the, “oh,” part of the word out. Church rolls his eyes. “But my car-”

“Seriously?”

“It could be stolen.”

“Yeah, okay.” Church shakes his head. “I’ll get it then. Give me your keys.”

“You can’t do that without driving there.”

“I- okay. Whatever. I’ll get it for you _later.”_

“Alright…” He lowers the cup of ice, so he can grab one of the pieces. “I should tell Maine what happened.”

“You have your phone?”

“Uh-” Wash stops, blatantly unsure. “Yes?”

“If you left it I still have his number.”

“Didn’t get rid of it?”

“Why bother?” Church shrugs. Something in Wash’s expression changes, but he can’t quite place what.

“I guess.”

“Alright, what is it?”

“You’re still my emergency hold contact number.”

“You could not have phrased that more confusingly.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No.” Church shakes his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I just had a anx-”

“Not that!”

Wash is silent for a moment, then he sighs. “I kept forgetting to change it, but I didn’t…want to.”

“Oh.” Church processes the meaning behind the words slowly.

He’s never been very good at that: emotions, intent. Serious conversations draw worry to the surface. Misunderstanding something normally isn’t a big deal, but jumping to conclusions about something that matters is terrifying in a way nothing else is. Finally, he decides the words must mean something similar to his own feelings.

With a pause, and a deep breath, he says, “me too.”

“You…too?”

“Why do you think you were still in our ride-contact list?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, well…there you go.” Another pause. “Why don’t you- just- rest, okay? Because I seriously do not want to have _this_ conversation when you’re like this.”

“What’s, “like this,” mean?”

“Uh barely awake?”

“Fair.” He laughs, lightly. “Later.”

“Yeah.”

Later is hours later. Wash does, in fact, pass out on the couch. Carolina returns about an hour after that, and Church asks for her help getting Wash’s car. Or, rather, bringing his own back when he does. He wakes Wash for just long enough to get his keys from him, which he doesn’t even hesitate to hand over. It’s half worrying, half comforting that he still trusts him that much.

It’s late evening when he wakes, completely. Church has spent most of that time on the chair in the living room, working.

“You’re up,” He says, simply. Glances away from the blurring lines of code. Then turns back to them.

“Yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

“Like garbage, as usual.” Wash seems to realize how he said that a second later. “After something like that, I mean. I’m not _that_ bad.”

“No I got it. I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Right…”

“So, let’s have that conversation neither of us wants to have?”

A groan, echoing that feeling. “Yeah, sure.”

“I still want to be your…friend.”

“Really struggled to say _friend_ , huh?”

“Don’t be a dick. You know that’s…difficult.”

“Sorry, no, yeah. I get it.” Wash nods, though Church isn’t sure if it’s assuring himself, or trying to convey it more to Church. “I- uh- me too.”

“Right, cool. Would love it if that was all I had to say.”

“Something else?”

“I feel like-” he stresses every word, entirely because getting the thought out feels physically difficult- “it would be- I don’t know, damn it- it wouldn’t be honest to leave it at that.”

“You don’t have to-”

“My feelings never changed.”

“What?” He blinks at Church once, twice, three times. Church watches him in the corner of his vision. “From?”

“From before things got really bad.”

“Oh.” He laughs, something light, relieved. Church faces him fully for the first time, startled by the reaction.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I thought it would, but it hasn’t.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Church poses the question simply, to avoid any misconceptions. “Want to date?”

“Sure, why not?” There’s something like amusement running through his words. At once it feels like some sort of weight has lifted.

“Don’t sound _too_ enthusiastic.”

“Well you aren’t exactly wooing me.”

“Gross, don’t expect me to.”

“Oh no I wouldn’t dream of it. If that’s what I wanted you wouldn’t be my first choice.”

“Hey- wait- are you insinuating I _couldn’t?”_

“Insinuating implies there’s a question about whether or not it’s true.”

“Alright, asshole, get out of my house.”

“You have my keys.”

“Oh- shit, yeah, I forgot. No- wait, I’m not actually kicking you out.”

“I know.” The amusement has fully formed into a grin.

“I hate you.”

“You usually start dating people you hate?”

“Yep, watch out. I have plenty of options.”

“I’m terrified, really.” He rolls his eyes. It’s strangely easy, to fall back into familiar patterns. It’s been months, but they return to them like it hasn’t.

Carolina knows _something._ She definitely knows something. She keeps glancing at Wash without saying anything, and it’s increasingly unsettling. Is she going to threaten him? She doesn’t _look_ like she’s going to threaten him. Maybe she doesn’t know, but just thinks something is going on?

“Dude, are you okay?” Wash jumps, turning to York.

“I’m fine!”

“Sure, that’s why you keep jumping whenever Carolina looks at you.”

“I don’t do that.”

“Uh huh.” York rolls his eyes, and Wash frowns at him.

“Look it’s- nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Okay?”

“I think your sister is going to kill me.”

“Oh, RIP.”

“You- seriously?!” Wash spins to look at Church, who shrugs.

“You’ll be fine.” He blinks six times, quickly, then shakes his head. “We should have…food?”

“Why did you word that as a question?”

“I don’t know.” Church shrugs, then blinks another eight times. Finally, he closes his eyes and sighs.

“You need to sit down?”

“I’m fine.”

“Sit down,” Wash says, seriously. Church shakes his head, but sits on the couch. “Do you want food?”

Church hums, considering. “Probably.”

“Probably.”

“Yeah.” Another shakes of his head, and he buries his face in his hands. “No, I need a second.”

“Okay.” Wash sits on the chair in the room, and goes silent. Looks at anything else, because it feels weird to watch Church. After a moment, he glances back to find Church’s posture has changed completely. Withdrawn, arms curled up to his chest. _Oh,_ it’s Eta, probably. Or Theta, maybe. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Voice small, hesitant. Eta.

“How are you, Eta?”

“’M okay.” Eta looks away for a moment, then back towards Wash. He doesn’t meet Wash’s eyes, but Wash didn’t expect him to. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“No- uh- I mean you were doing something? Uh- Church was?”

“It’s fine. We were talking about dinner.”

“Mhm.” Eta nods.

“Do you want food?”

“I- uh- yes, sure.” Eta shifts, looking away again. “Oh, how are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine,” Eta repeats, like he’s testing the word. It’s still surprising to Wash, how little he sounds like Church. “Are you- um- you’re not- upset?”

“About?”

“I’m here.”

“No, of course not.”

“Okay.” Then, slowly, “we weren’t supposed to talk to you. Before- um- when you weren’t talking.”

“I know.”

“Yeah.” Eta nods, though it seems more to himself than Wash. “But- um- you were on my list.”

“The happiness list?”

“Yeah, that one!” Eta looks up, posture relaxing just slightly. “There are people on it.”

“That’s nice,” he says, lightly. Genuinely.

“Yeah.” Eta nods. Then, very quietly, “can I hug you?”

Wash is surprised enough by the question he doesn’t respond right away. Then, slowly, nods. “Yes?”

“Okay.” Eta all but jumps to his feet. Makes his way over, a puts his head against Wash’s chest, wrapping his arms around him. It’s a slightly awkward angle, but this doesn’t seem to bother Eta. He puts a hand on the other's head, before he speaks again.

“How have you been, Eta?”

“Good, I think? Uh- mostly? Yeah, that. I had a birthday.”

“You and Iota are fifteen, now, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Happy birthday, even though it’s late.”

“Thank you!”

Over the course of a week, Wash is reintroduced to a number of the others. It feels odd, realizing how little has really changed. That the only thing that really had- that needed to- was setting limits. Saying, “I’ll listen if you need me, if I can, but sometimes I can’t.” And hearing, “you can tell me things, too. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you.”

Saying, _I want you to know you can talk to me._ And saying, _I can’t carry the weight of everything for both of us._

For a time, it really feels like they’re just friends again, and that’s fine. Would be enough on it’s own, anyway. And then, slowly, they shift back into routines that they formed after they started dating the first time, and before things went wrong.

It’s nice, something he’d missed more than he would have admitted.

Things that are true: Carolina has noticed a shift in the way her brother reacts to her mentioning work, and her friends. From slight discomfort- in what she assumes is a reaction to thinking about Wash, specifically- to just…a neutral reaction. Wash jumps every time she so much as looks at him, let alone tries to talk to him. The two are apparently on good enough terms, at this point, that she finds Wash in the apartment she shares with her brother five different times over the course of two weeks, unrelated to her living there.

Things that are also true: She isn’t sure how to bring this change up. Isn’t sure if it’s something she _needs to._ Curiosity is is her driving force, but she’s only just reentered her brother’s life, and doesn’t know what’s stepping over boundaries. Sure he’d said it was okay, had trusted her, but they also hadn’t spoken properly for six years, before she moved in.

Things that Carolina learns are true, on accident: They’re dating again. They must be, or else she’ll have _more_ questions in regards to returning home to find them in the middle of what must be a date. If their jumpiness- the quick separation- is anything to go by.

“So,” Carolina starts, purposefully monotone, “now I have to give you _both_ the shovel talk.”

“Both?” Wash asks, pitch raising in the way it always does when he’s startled. Church puts a hand to his own face, sighing.

“Well, obviously.” And then Carolina turns, walking to her own room. She distantly hears concerned muttering between them. She thinks, for a moment, that it should probably have been obvious to her, what was going on.

“She’s going to threaten me?”

“If anything she’ll probably threaten me,” Church says, tone far too amused.

“Huh?”

“Considering why we originally broke up.”

“Oh- shut up, you’re her _brother.”_

“That wont stop her.”

“Whatever.” Then, quietly, “you don’t think she’d actually kill me, do you?”

“Oh my god; no you fucking idiot.”

“If you say so.”

A little more than three years ago, Church had missed, “meeting a new friend,” because he hadn’t been around. It wasn’t something he was particularly worried about, because Caboose had been the one the bring said “new friend” around which meant the friend was either an animal, machine, or a human person who was just as bad at telling Caboose, “no,” as the rest of them. (Not that he’d _admit_ he had trouble with that, because he did it often enough. He could say he was capable of it, even if he usually gave in after.)

A little less than three years ago, Church has been really surprised when Tucker had told him, “you should really show up this time.” Because unlike Caboose, Tucker didn’t try to make friends with _every person he’s ever met,_ so this person was probably _actually_ worth meeting.

And he had shown up. And he had met him. And he _was_ worth meeting. Church didn’t know to the extent, at the time, but…

He had been.

A little more than year ago, Church had been forced to actually _realize_ how glad he actually was, to have met Wash. And a year ago he’d posed the question simply. Wash had taken a moment to process it, likely because of how simply he’d said, “want to go on a date?”

And a few months ago, they’d broken up.

And a few weeks ago, they’d gotten back together.

Three years ago, they met at the shitty restaurant his group of friends usually meet at. Wash became a regular part of the group, and as they got closer he slowly ended up sitting in the seats closer to Church, until he ended up taking the place next to him not occupied by Caboose. (Who always insisted on sitting next to him for, “best friend,” reasons.)

When they broke up, Wash had stopped showing up. Stopped being invited, eventually. Nobody really _talked_ about it, besides Caboose expressing disappointment. They avoided mentioning him at all, as if Church was the one who was going to be hurt hearing about him. (He would have, but he would have denied he would have.) It felt odd, because most of them were _also_ Wash’s friends, and he knew they still talked to him, but they didn’t mention him, and he wasn’t there.

For a while, after they started talking again, he still didn’t show up.

Then, two weeks after they got back together, he finally accepted invitations again, and it was like nothing had changed.

Except some things have. Some things have, and it's _better_ that they have.

Church drives the other home, because he’d agreed to be the days designated driver. He helps Wash up to his apartment and tries very hard not to flinch at the warning looks Maine gives him. (A look of: don't hurt him again.) And when he lays the other down on his couch, Wash mumbles something he can’t quite pick out.

“What was that?”

“I still-” he pauses, frowning then shakes his head- “I still love you.”

“Oh,” Church says, trying not to laugh. “Okay, thank you.”

“Mhm.” He nods. “Goodnight.”

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, loser.” Then, before he leaves. “Me too.”

“I know.”

He does laugh at that.

And for now things are good. Genuinely good. This time he can hope they’ll stay that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I briefly mentioned tex and beta in this fic, and separately, i should clarify: Tex is a separate person, and Beta is an alter who is dormant right now? (idk if that's the correct word, but).  
> there was supposed to be a scene w/ eta and carolina interacting (and eta being like "hey...you know your friend? any chance you could invite him over so i can talk to him") but this was long enough already!!
> 
> anyway if you want a story about someone specific in this universe lmk

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always greatly appreciated


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